


Promptober Spooks

by candycorns



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Body Horror, Canon-typical Remus, Everybody's having a rough time, Gen, Role Swap, Surreal, The Split, Thomas loves his Sides so much, as a treat, but not all the time!, light gore, or at least, sometimes things end well, the boys can have a little happiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27074635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candycorns/pseuds/candycorns
Summary: A collection of spooky prompts from the Joan Collective's Promptober challenge. Grim Reapers, disappearing Sides, the Split, and all sorts of strange happenings
Comments: 34
Kudos: 23
Collections: Thomas Fucking Dies





	1. Only the Good Die Young

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter-specific characters and warnings listed in each chapter's notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton has a surprisingly heartfelt conversation with his murderer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Patton & Remus
> 
> Chapter-specific warnings at the end

Remus sauntered along the riverbank, head lolling from side to side. Upstream, the water shone turquoise in the midmorning sun, its happy babbling echoing off stones in the shallows. The scene made him want to vomit. He looked on with glee as it transformed into something far grimmer where the water flowed past him.

Limpid blue melted into boiling sludge, bubbles rushing to the surface and bursting into clouds of noxious fumes. Dead fish churned in the rapids, the babbling turning to shrieks that sent flocks of birds into the sky. Remus grinned at the turmoil, toothy smile expanding until his face was nothing but a gleaming maw. He was still admiring his handiwork when a shouting came from nearby.

“Hey! Anyone there? Do you need help? I’m coming, just hold on!” came the voice, closer now.

A small figure in overalls came barreling out of the woods. Remus tilted his head, eyes gleaming. A lazy finger came up to point at the person. Almost as an afterthought, he dragged the finger sideways. It was amusing how they went flying, like they’d been tugged by an invisible string. Into the river they went with a splash.

Remus let out a whoop. The body would tumble past him in a second, probably already bloodied from the rocks. Heck, probably still alive! Several moments of passed in eager anticipation, but no body appeared. Huh.

He approached the spot where the person had gone under. Sure enough, there floated a man, head bobbing just beneath the surface. His foot must have gotten trapped by a rock and stuck there until he’d drowned. Normally that sort of death was a little _pedestrian_ for Remus’s tastes, but the trusty stream made it interesting enough. Black muck filled the corpse’s mouth and ears, oozing in and out like someone squeezing a ketchup bottle.

Remus reached down and poked the thing’s forehead. At once, a cyan mist appeared above the water. It shaped into a nebulous silhouette, only the head defined enough to be recognizable as the body below. Though cracked glasses still perched on the body’s nose, the spirit wore none.

It noticed Remus and recoiled. “Oh, hi! Hi there?” The man’s eyes darted around Remus’s face. “Sorry, I’m not totally sure where to look. You don’t appear to, uh, have eyes?” Remus tried and failed to blink in confusion. Right! He considered leaving his face as is, but finally he let the proper features melt back into place.

The spirit grimaced during the transformation, looking away until it was over. Then he asked bluntly, “Did you kill me?”

“Yep! I’ll resurrect you if you want. But then I’ll just kill you again. Maybe with snake venom this time! Do you know what happens if a stake bites you? Basically – ”

“Ah, no! That’s okay, I’ll just stay dead. Thanks for offering though.” The spirit smiled feebly.

“Bummer. Well whatever, see ya never.” Remus rose to leave, but the spirit reached forward with misty arms, expression panicked.

“Wait! Aren’t you taking me with you?”

“Nope. Not interested in the ferrying business. I’m more about the bing bang boom!” Remus threw out his hands in an exploding motion.

“Oh…you mean killing? You like doing it?”

“Yeah, ’course. What could be more fun than watching good stuff turn to rot?”

“What? Plenty of things! I mean, good stuff can be really rare, and that makes it all the more precious. Dontcha think?”

“If good stuff is rare, then opportunities to kill good stuff are _also_ rare, therefore killing good stuff is precious! Boom, logic-ed ya.” Remus grinned.

The spirit breathed a laugh. “I’m not sure that’s how it works, kiddo. I’m Patton, by the way, though I guess you already knew that.”

“Why would I know your name?” Remus asked.

Patton’s brow furrowed. “Because you killed me. That means I was a name on your list, and now, well.” Patton glanced at the putrefying body floating below him.

Oh, this was a treat. “Uh-huh, so you think your death was some assignment by divine providence or whatever?”

“Wasn’t it?” Patton replied hesitantly. He looked away, face falling into something pained and tragic. “I’m not mad about it or anything. I get it. I wasn’t a good enough person, and bad people face consequences. Guess I haven’t even really _started_ facing the big consequences, huh?” Patton’s arms clutched tightly around the vague shape of his torso.

“The big consequences? You’re talking about _hell?”_ Remus asked incredulously. Patton really had no idea why Remus had killed him. He strained to hear as Patton’s voice dropped to a near whisper.

“Yes. I know I deserve it, just…is it okay if I don’t go just yet? If you give me – uh, directions? – I promise I’ll go on my own. Really, I will!” Patton closed his eyes. “I’d just like to soak up a few more moments under the sun.”

Remus stared at the cyan blob in front of him. Normally he never spoke to the things – plants, animals, people – that he killed. Some fatal mayhem and then he was gone. He had more important things to do than chat with the dead, after all.

“…Look. You wanna know the real reason I killed you?” Remus asked, sighing through his nose. “And here’s a hint: it’s not because you were on some ‘eternal damnation’ list.”

Patton sniffled, a few teardrops falling when he opened his eyes to look at Remus, who sighed again.

“It’s because you were yelling. Well, not _that_ you were yelling, but _what_ you were yelling. You were coming to help cause you heard screaming, right?”

Patton swallowed. “Yeah. Was that you?”

“Nope. It was the stream. It shrieks when I get close, same way it turns into a biohazard. Point is, I killed you cause I could tell right of the bat that you were _good._ Kind, selfless, moral, whatever. And I kill good stuff. It’s fun, like a game.”

Patton blinked rapidly. Remus could practically see the gears turning in his mind. “So…I wasn’t destined to die today or anything?”

“Nope.”

“And you killed me…because I’m good? Not broken or defective or bad?” Patton’s earnest gaze would’ve made Remus’s heart ache, if he could care about people.

“No. Geez, man. You need to lighten up. At this rate you’ll bring everybody down the second you get where you’re going. No that they’d probably care; the fuddy duddies up there get off on bullshit like ‘love’ and ‘friendship.’ Dull or what?”

“Up there?” Patton broke out into a hopeful smile. It was disgustingly wholesome.

“Yeah sure, you’ll fit right in with that crowd. Speaking of, how about you get going?” he replied dismissively.

Patton’s face was scrunching and unscrunching in what Remus provisionally identified as an expression of joy. “Yes, great idea! Oh, wow. Hey, wait!”

Remus turned back from where he’d started to leave. Patton made a motion like he wanted to fiddle with his sleeves, except he no longer had any. “You might think it’s ‘BS,’ but truly, thank you. For being my friend today. I really needed one, ha.”

Remus stared, meeting Patton’s gaze for several long moments. Finally, he broke the look to rub the back of his neck. “Uh-huh. It _is_ BS, but – you’re welcome. And thanks, too.”

With one last sunny smile, the mist that was Patton vanished into the sky. Remus felt an odd ache in his chest. When a frog hopped into his vision, he tossed it into the river – like he’d tossed Patton. After a few moments, Remus fished the frog back out and let it hop away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: major character death
> 
> Sometimes you get murdered while walking in the woods, but sometimes your murderer turns out to be pretty chill.
> 
> Feel free to come chat with me on tumblr @tothestanders, I love making new friends in the fandom!


	2. Dead of Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a moment of desperation, Thomas makes a deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: C!Thomas
> 
> Chapter-specific warnings at the end

When Thomas got the news, everyone around him panicked, but all he felt was numb. ‘Terminal’ was more fun in airports, he decided.

There was nothing to be done about it. But there _was_ one last thing he needed to do.

The air bit his nose and fingertips with frigid teeth as he walked. Frozen twigs crunched underfoot, the only sound in a forest muted by snow. A gloomy sky tinted the world gray.

Although Thomas hadn’t come here in years, he still knew the path by heart. Walk until the trail ends, turn right at the eerily human-shaped stump, then follow the stream. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking by the frozen rivulet when the air began to shift.

The cold’s bite morphed into a caress, chilly wind brushing curiously across his skin. It struck him that he could barely make out the trees, the grayscale having deepened until everything was the same steely hue. He yelped when one of the maybe-trees moved.

“Well aren’t you a breath of cool air?” it spoke.

Thomas took in the strange, yet familiar figure standing before him. White hair draped down its body, blending indiscernibly into the snow at its feet. Peeking out from beneath the strands were icy blue eyes and shimmering silver skin.

“Feeling quiet today, hm? So different from last time.” The person – thing – being tilted its head with a smirk.

“I was a talkative kid. Didn’t realize that’d put me in danger.”

“How true. Nearly entered a deal thrice over. Such a shame you ran off before we could seal anything.”

Thomas fidgeted with his sleeves. “Yeah, well, I want to make a deal now.”

The being broke out into a wide grin. Thomas couldn’t help but notice its teeth: perfectly round and crystalline, like spheres of ice.

“Well, why didn’t you say so! Oh, snowflake, don’t tease me – come now, what would you like? I can give you anything your heart desires.”

Thomas’s heart felt heavy as a glacier. He took a breath, digging deep for the energy to speak. “That’s not totally true, though, right? You can’t help me. So I’m not here for myself. Well, sort of, but not exactly – ”

The being held up a hand tipped with icicles. “Let me stop you there, sleety pie. If I’ve caught your drift, I’m afraid you’re right. Magic can’t halt death.” The being’s head tilted unnaturally far to the side, an amused smile on its lips. “And, well, you’re nearly corpse-cold already. And not just from the weather.”

Thomas flinched back as if struck, expression wavering between hurt and disbelief. “Yeah, I got it, thanks,” he snapped. The fight drained from him quick as it’d arrived, expelling itself in a sigh. He trained his gaze on the snowy ground.

“I know my time is up. But when I die, it won’t just be _me._ I have these – uh – they’re sort of imaginary representations of my personality? Except they’re _more_ than that, too, and they don’t even have bodies so it’s totally unfair that they have to die just cause _I’m_ sick.” Thomas paused, lips pinching. “So I was wondering…hoping that even if you can’t save me, you could save them?” He finally lifted his eyes, earnestly meeting the being’s cold gaze.

It was giving him an unreadable look. Thomas shifted uneasily, abruptly aware of his vulnerability. He’d come this far, though, and it wasn’t like he had anything to lose. Even now, Virgil was quiet.

After a long moment, the being’s smile returned. “Why, of course. I’d be honored to oblige such a generous wish.”

Relief broke over Thomas like shattered ice, leaving him so giddy he would’ve flapped his hands had they not been numb from cold.

“In return, all I require is your soul.”

His glee was instantly doused by ice water filling his veins. Thomas should’ve remembered the frozen lake beneath his feet, should’ve kept in mind the inevitable crack and plunge.

“No, wait, my soul? That can’t be necessary. There’s gotta be something, anything else you want?”

The being tsked sympathetically. “In fact, it’s absolutely necessary. You are the source of your little friends’ existence. Therefore, I’ll need your soul in order to sustain them in reality. No soul, no existing.”

A cacophony sprang up around Thomas, jarring in the hushed forest. Six desperate and angry voices yelling, hands frantically reaching towards Thomas. Before they could stop him, Thomas blurted, “I accept.”

The six couldn’t bury the corpse until the ground thawed in spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: major character death
> 
> Feel free to come chat with me on tumblr @tothestanders, I love making new friends in the fandom!


	3. Drastic Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is wrong with Creativity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Roman, Remus, & Patton
> 
> Chapter-specific warnings at the end

It started innocently enough.

Creativity was playing alone in his room. A game where a little boy travelled through an enchanted forest, making friends and saving damsels along the way. Until he was captured by a giant swamp monster, who made him watch as it devoured a village, sobs and screams for mercy ringing out through the air –

Creativity grimaced. That was a little…

A strange sensation disrupted his train of thought. Chubby fingers clumsily lifted his shirt, successfully locating the source: a tiny bump on his side that hadn’t been there before.

It looked kind of like a pimple, except black instead of red. Creativity poked it, flinching back at the pulse of pain that triggered. Then he poked it again, more carefully this time. After half an hour of prodding and yelping, he determined it was best not to touch the new bump and immediately forgot about it.  
~  
Time passed, and it was almost April Fools Day. _Almost,_ but Creativity already had his prank set up. Going early would increase the surprise! He bounced on his toes as Morality entered the kitchen, watching from the crack of the closet door. It took all his willpower not to burst out early and ruin the surprise.

This was going to be so much fun. Maybe his greatest prank yet! Morality would think he was so clever and funny and then they’d bake cookies and –

A bloodcurdling scream made Creativity cover his ears. He threw open the door and ran into the kitchen. Morality was hunched over on the floor, cradling Creativity’s limp body and sobbing into his shirt.

Well, not _Creativity’s_ body. A fake! He’d conjured up a clone earlier and left it lying on the floor for somebody to find. It was funny because they’d walk in and think he was dead – wait. Why had he thought that would be funny? Looking at Morality’s tear-drenched face, he didn’t feel like laughing.

Creativity vanished the clone and rushed over to throw his arms around Morality, who was panickily patting the floor. After a moment of stiff confusion, Morality engulfed him in a suffocating hug.

“I’m sorry! It was supposed to be a joke. Sorry, sorry!” Creativity blubbered. Morality forgave him, but his expression left a heavy pit in Creativity’s stomach.

That night, he noticed the bump on his side had grown. Rather than a pimple, it now resembled a softball. The skin stretched over it painfully, black and gnarled like a gangrenous sore. Creativity swallowed back nausea and quickly hid the lump beneath a thick pajama shirt. No one else knew about it yet, and he wasn’t planning on telling them. They’d just worry, Creativity reasoned. He could handle it himself.  
~  
Creativity tried everything to get rid of the bump. He spent hours with his eyes squeezed shut, concentrating harder than he ever had in his life. His fingertips were rubbed raw from vain attempts to snap it away.

The mysterious tumor had taken on a translucent quality. Beneath the skin, unidentifiable globs drifted through black fluid. Creativity stared into the swirling darkness, equal parts mesmerized and bewildered. All the while, it continued to grow.

He was having to go to increasingly ridiculous lengths to hide it. His wardrobe shifted from simple children’s clothes to elaborate costumes. When the others asked about the change, he just proclaimed a new love for princes. But with the outfits and pained grimaces, concerned looks kept coming his way. The many concealing layers and accessories wouldn’t cut it for long.

Oh. Wait.

Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

Once everyone had gone to bed that night, Creativity snuck downstairs. He crept into the kitchen on tip toes, silently grabbing what he needed before dashing back to his room.

He felt almost sick with apprehension, heart hammering in his chest. As his hands slickened with sweat, he gripped the knife handle tighter.

The “bump,” which was practically the size of a bowling ball now, continued its strange churning under the skin. If it knew what was about to happen, it gave no indication.

Creativity wanted to press his eyes shut tight but knew he had to be careful. With a shaking hand, he brought down the blade and began to pry. It didn’t hurt as much as he’d feared, the blackened skin more dead than alive. Still, it took nearly an hour for the last bits of filmy flesh to fall away.

When he was finished, Creativity collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. His head flopped to the side to look at the excised mass, but it was gone. He couldn’t find the energy to care. Soon, he was fast asleep.

The next morning, someone shook him awake. “Rise and spine!” they crooned. Then the person pulled out their own spine, and Creativity regretted every decision of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: slight body horror
> 
> Feel free to come chat with me on tumblr @tothestanders, I love making new friends in the fandom!


	4. It doesn't matter how it hurts him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus has to choose between himself and the other Sides. If he's being honest (for once in his rapidly dwindling life), it was never even a choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Janus (Virgil implied)
> 
> Chapter-specific warnings at the end

Freud believed that repression drains one’s energy. Freud was also a hack, but in this case he had a point. Janus would know.

He felt so tired lately, like someone had poured lead down his throat until it filled up to his neck. The image of Lilo’s totally not-adorable illustration of Stitch’s “badness level” came to mind, except with fatigue instead of badness. Well, perhaps badness too. He’d earned every one of his scales, after all.

There was a cost to being the secret-keeper. And that’s exactly what he was: a keeper, not a master. Whatever Thomas (or the other Sides by extension) didn’t wish to know, Janus was obligated to keep hidden. Whether he agreed with the choice was an irrelevant matter.

Not that he disagreed all that often. The world was an ugly place; one’s own mind could be even uglier. Janus had no doubt that if honesty became the Sides’ policy, they’d soon be irretrievably dysfunctional (though they weren’t far from it as is, he thought with a sneer). Self-deception was like a raft, keeping them safe from the repressed unpleasantness swimming beneath. Insecurity, resentment, guilt, self-doubt…Janus could laugh at how much they kept hidden.

Of course, the frustration was intense at times, watching the others barricade themselves behind thick layers of untruth, voluntarily trapping themselves in a rabbit hole of lies – or dungeon, whatever, the metaphor wasn’t important. The point was that it’d been happening a lot more lately and, less importantly, that all the self-deception was taking a bit of a toll.

Janus only had so much energy to go around, particularly given his not exactly cherished status in Thomas’s mind. If he diverted energy to one part of his function, well, it had to be diverted from somewhere else. He couldn’t stop maintaining the others’ lies – who knew what chaos that’d bring about. But he also couldn’t – wouldn’t – allow his other crucial jobs to fall by the wayside. Thomas needed him too much.

Still, something had to give.

The papers on his desk fluttered from the force of his sigh. The parchment looked blurry through his bare palms, which rested atop the stack. Today he could make out some words through the translucent skin. That was worse than yesterday, when the ink had been too obscured to read. He pressed his hands down as an experiment. After a moment of resistance, they passed right through the table.

Janus supposed now would be a good time to panic. His corporeality had been in steady decline for months now, but the rate had recently accelerated dramatically. Last week he was solid (if you didn’t look too closely). Now he was practically a ghost. Virgil would appreciate that, Janus thought, for the spooky aesthetic.

Well, Virgil would appreciate this turn of events for other reasons, as well.

Janus wasn’t sure how far this would go. As he worked so closely with the contents of the Unconscious, he’d witnessed plenty of similarly faded specters: wisps of ideas, tendrils of thought and memory long buried. And sometimes shadowy figures, mouths moving soundlessly and silhouettes flickering. Janus suppressed a shudder.

Despite the dire outlook, he didn’t feel afraid (he didn’t, no matter what some treacherous part of himself claimed). Even as his flesh turned to air and sensation disappeared, his function hadn’t been affected. Thomas kept telling white lies at the usual rate, and the Sides were none the wiser. They hadn’t noticed Janus’s absence, of course, but they’d certainly notice a deluge of repressed emotions. So far, all was well. And if Thomas was well, what had Janus to fear?

It would be ridiculous to worry on his own behalf. He’s _imaginary,_ for crying out loud. Having a distinct form was just an expedience, a convenient mode of representing himself to Thomas. That meant his form was irrelevant, since Thomas certainly didn’t care for him to make an appearance. Their relationship had only gone downhill since Janus’s grand introduction, which was a fiasco in and of itself.

Thomas was capable of deceit: this much Janus knew to be true. That trait wouldn’t go away regardless of whether it had a personification or not. Thomas could keep lying. The Sides could keep telling themselves they were fine, that they didn’t resent their ‘friends,’ that they were all one big happy family. There was no need for Janus himself. There was no need for his heart to pound and his breath to hitch.

No need for him to answer the door as voices shouted from outside. No need to look as it swung open. No need to cling to a hand placed gently on his intangible arm, or to lean on someone with a deep, double-toned voice speaking desperately in his ear, helping him stand, promising to save him.

Janus didn’t need to do any of those things. But the faces around him were pinched in worry, and he could tell it was for him, not for Thomas or his function or the sweet lies he told. Maybe, just maybe, Thomas’s mind wasn’t quite as ugly as he’d thought. Maybe Janus could believe in a beautiful thing, could keep something for himself, could rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: imagery of a Side fading (but not completely)
> 
> Feel free to come chat with me on tumblr @tothestanders, I love making new friends in the fandom!


	5. Slippery Slope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas can’t leave. He can’t move without sliding on slime, can’t stand on the shifting floor of the chamber, can’t see an exit – knows there is no exit, not while alive, anyway. He can’t _breathe_ -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: C!Thomas, Logan, Patton
> 
> Chapter-specific warnings at the end

Thomas can’t see.

He’s never experienced darkness this absolute, like floating in a void. He holds his hands up so close they bump his nose, yet not even their outline is faintly visible.

It’s not nearly as quiet as it is dark. Thomas is equal parts grateful and nauseated. Gurgling, squelching, and grumbling echo all around him, impossible to pinpoint. Sometimes it growls right beside his ear, but he stifles his flinch, knowing that a steadying hand or jerk of the head will touch slimy… something. He doesn’t want to think about it. His limbs are folded up to minimize contact, but the damp still seeps inexorably through his clothes.

He isn’t sure how long he sits there. Alone, blind, wet – though not cold. Hot humidity presses in, mixing with the sweat on his skin and sticking in his throat so thickly he’s sure he’ll drown. He can’t stay here. He can’t leave. He can’t move without sliding on slime, can’t stand on the shifting floor of the chamber, can’t see an exit – knows there is no exit, not while alive, anyway. He can’t _breathe_ –

He can see.

There, a little to the left. A pinprick of light surrounded by a halo-like glow. Thomas squints at it, unsure if it’s real or hallucinatory. The debate is quickly dismissed, the relief of _light_ too overwhelming when he’d been grieving a death in darkness. Brimming with anticipation, he scrambles to his feet to run to it – and promptly slips, getting a face-full of noxious goo.

He’s still spluttering, clawing the substance off his tongue when the light goes out. Before he has time to panic, someone is grabbing his arm and hoisting him to his feet. Their face is cast in shadow, and over their shoulder Thomas can see it again – a dim glow.

“It’s slippery inside, huh? Don’t worry, we’ll help you get across. Just hold on tight to my buddy Logan here and you’ll be out in a jiffy!” the person says.

“Woah! I didn’t know anybody else was in here. Have you been here the whole time?” Thomas asks, bewildered. Then, voice dropping mournfully, “Out? I hate to tell you, man, but getting in here is kind of a one-way deal.”

The person just shakes his head. “Not today. Trust me, we’re licensed professionals!”

“We are neither licensed nor paid for our labor, Patton. Our occupation would be better described as volunteer work,” another voice speaks from Thomas’s right. The surprise would’ve sent Thomas tumbling back down if it weren’t for the steady grip on his arm.

“Well, I’m certainly crying volun _tears_ of joy about all the nice people we get to help!” Patton replies. The other one – Logan – seems to groan, but the sound is drowned out by a roar somewhere distant.

“Uh oh, spaghettio.” Patton cringes. “We’d better be quick. Alrighty, off you go!” He passes Thomas’s arm to Logan, who shifts his grip to both of Thomas’s shoulders.

“Walking on such an unstable surface can prove challenging. For the greatest chance of success, keep your knees bent and allow me to stabilize you.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas says as Logan begins to propel them along. “Who _are_ you? And where are we going?!”

“Apologies for the limited exposition. We’re a small group, so we can’t afford to spend too much time handling any given victim. But between the six of us, we should be able to remove you all.”

“Remove me?” Thomas asks, voice going high.

“Yes, remove you from the digestive chamber before mechanical digestion begins. We have cut a hole through the layers of tissue protecting the organ, through which you will exit.”

“I’m gonna exit through _what?_ ” The light is brighter now, too blinding to look at within the black cavity. Squinting through his eyelashes, Thomas can make out the round shape and red tint of it. He swallows hard. “Oh.”

Logan maneuvers Thomas into the proper exit position. His feet are pointed down a tunnel towards the light, like a bloody membranous slide. Before Logan can push him out, Thomas turns to look back.

“What do I do once I’m out?”

Logan raises his eyebrows. “Run.”

Then he pushes hard, and Thomas doesn't need to be told twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: just kinda gross, light gore
> 
> ...yeah, I don't know what this one is either, folks. But it was a whole lot of fun to write!
> 
> Feel free to come chat with me on tumblr @tothestanders, I love making new friends in the fandom!


	6. Thomas wakes one morning to find something is missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sides are missing, Thomas's hands are bleeding, and no one knows what's going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: C!Thomas, Logan, Janus, & Virgil. Patton, Roman, & Remus are mentioned
> 
> Chapter-specific warnings at the end

Thomas knew the Sides weren’t real. Logan and even Remus never hesitated to remind him of it. Even their imaginary existence shouldn’t be important: most people didn’t have personifications of their personality that they could see and talk about their problems with. So when the Sides wouldn’t show up one day, Thomas shouldn’t have choked on panic.

No matter how much he called their names or made summoning motions with his hands, none of them appeared. He stood there for what felt like an eternity, muttering their names under his breath and willing them to _come back, come back, come BACK._ Then suddenly there all six of them were (in his desperation, he’d even called for Remus). Thomas was too overcome by relief to notice the blood trickling down his palms.

The Sides weren’t aware anything had happened. Thomas tried to explain that he’d called and no one had answered, and they just gave him looks of concern. He asked about the last thing they remembered, but the Sides’ perceptions of time and consciousness were strange, so the question was meaningless. They did their best to reassure Thomas as he sniffled, not sure what to think.

The next time it happened, the Sides were gone for hours. Thomas paced his tiny living room, taking short breaks from calling only to catch his breath. Blood dripped onto the floor as he walked, spun; walked, spun; walked, spun. He held his hands up to his face, inspecting the wounds that opened there. The longer he summoned in vain, the deeper the cuts ran. Thomas grit his teeth against the pain and kept trying.

No one was sure what was going on. At first, the Sides had worried something was wrong with Thomas. That he’d _thought_ he was summoning them but wasn’t really, was maybe hallucinating or having some sort of episode that also explained the lacerations on his hands. That was before it happened in a way that none of them, not even Janus, could deny.

Everyone but Remus was in Thomas’s living room, discussing what to do about a friendship gone south.

“Friendships are an opt- _in_ sort of deal, Thomas, which means you can always opt- _out._ If the friendship has stopped being a benefit, you should let it go,” Janus said, waving a hand.

Virgil shot him a glare. “Great idea, if you want everyone to think you’re flaky and hate you. Then they can ‘opt out’ of _you._ ”

“Oh, please. I hardly think – ”

Thomas didn’t get to hear what Janus hardly thought, because right at that moment he and the others vanished. 

Thomas was seized by panic, mind filling with static. The worst-case scenario had been abruptly proven true: the Sides weren’t just weirdly unable to hear him sometimes. They were _gone._ He didn’t know where. Maybe nowhere.

His mind scrambled for something to do. Racking his brain for ideas, he came upon a promising memory. Thomas closed his eyes, ignoring the tell-tale wetness blooming on his hands. His anxiety spiked just as he wanted, causing hope to mingle with the fear. However, when his eyes opened several moments later, there were no spider curtains. No Nightmare Before Christmas posters.

Thomas tried again with the others, focusing on each of their functions in turn. Nothing. He even attempted to visit Remus’s room, thinking the most depraved thoughts he could bring himself to and bracing for unspeakable horror. Thomas had never been so disappointed to find his living room clean of gore.

Over the next days, he dipped in and out of despair, part of him giving up on ever seeing his Sides again. Whenever that part took hold, the pain in his hands would vanish. Thomas could only stare helplessly at the stained skin.

 _Finally,_ the Sides returned. Thomas hadn’t even been trying to summon them this time. The five of them popped back up where they’d last been standing, seeming disoriented. Janus had lost his train of thought. When Thomas told them how much time had passed, their faces went pale.

There was no discernible pattern to the disappearances. Then again, there was no way to track when it happened unless the Sides were with Thomas or he were trying to summon them. Because of this, summoning them morphed into a source of dread. It was Schrodinger’s Cat: until Thomas tried, he didn’t know either way. They may be there – they may be gone.

Thomas couldn’t bear the uncertainty. He took to keeping at least one of them with him all the time. Watching them occasionally vanish was horrible, but it was better than the not-knowing. Still, every time it happened, he was terrified that this was it. This time, they’d be gone for good. 

At least there was one silver lining amidst the fear: Thomas was getting lots of bonding time with his Sides. The precariousness of the situation hung over them, doing away with silly pretense. They cuddled unabashedly, whatever Side was present snuggling up to Thomas whenever possible. He wondered how he’d never realized just how intensely he loved them, and they relished in the newfound closeness with their Center. Even Janus gave in to the comfort Thomas offered. After a particularly lengthy disappearance, Thomas had held him long into the night, murmuring comfort until his hands had stopped shaking. Thomas’s own hands had left bloody prints on his cape.

His hands were getting worse. Welts carved into the flesh like grisly palm lines, the skin rubbed raw like rope burn. Logan inspected the wounds with a grim expression. After a period of questioning, he said, “I believe I have identified the cause of your injury.” Finally, a diagnosis. Then at least one of his terrible problems could be fixed, and then he could focus better on saving the Sides –

“You need to let us go.”

Thomas’s heart stopped. It must have, because a heart has to be whole in order to work, and Thomas’s shattered into a million pieces the moment Logan spoke his verdict. Let them go? Let _his Sides_ go? Just the thought made him want to sob, or vomit, or curl up into a ball and never get up again. He couldn’t. Even if he’d somehow wanted to, he _couldn’t._

He looked at his hands. The skin had acquired a permanent red stain, dried blood crusting under his fingernails. His fingers ached; the palms shrieked in agony. He’d been lying to his friends, not knowing how to explain the spontaneous injuries.

It made sense, Thomas thought, now that Logan had said it out loud. He’d been holding on so tightly, yanking his Sides back into existence over and over again by sheer force of will. Sometimes his grip had slipped, and he’d redoubled his efforts as blood dripped onto the floor. He’d refused to let go.

Desperate frustration welled up in him. Thomas didn’t even know _why_ he had to let go! He didn’t know where the Sides were going, or why, or why they couldn’t stay here with him. They were part of his own dang mind! It wasn’t _fair,_ it wasn’t _right,_ the Sides deserved better and hell, so did he! While Thomas shouted his frustrations at no one, Logan thought.

Logan approached Thomas several days later. “After careful consideration, my prior recommendation may have been premature,” he announced. Thomas could’ve kissed him, if Logan weren’t a figment of his imagination.

“As you obviously know, I and the other ‘Sides’ have been experiencing periods of nonexistence the past several months,” Logan continued.

“Yeah, I know,” Thomas replied, a pit lodging in his stomach.

“Right. At first, I had considered this a non-issue given that we ‘Sides’ do not technically exist at all, but rather are figments of your imagination. However, I now believe this assumption to be faulty, and thus my initial reasoning to be flawed.”

Thomas sat up straighter, leaning towards Logan with widening eyes. “Wait, what do you mean? Are you saying you guys are like, real people living in my head?”

Logan shook his head. “No, not quite. We are still the personifications of your personality, but it’s been obvious for some time now that we are something _more_ than that, as well. Each of us has thoughts, intentions, and” – Logan grimaced – “emotions that belong to us alone. These traits elevate us beyond mere imagination, into something more substantial.”

Thomas blinked several times. “Okay, okay, yeah. That tracks with, well, everything. But how does that help me save you?” The question was nearly a plea.

“Ah yes, it’s fascinating: we originate in your mind and thus are heavily shaped by your mental activities. Despite the complexity we have developed, you retain the belief that we are mere figments of your imagination.” Logan became animated as he explained his idea, hands coming up to gesticulate. “I theorize that your mind senses this discrepancy and in response, is trying to eliminate it. Perhaps for simplicity’s sake or perhaps because we have grown beyond your mind’s ability to modulate us, the method it has chosen is to eliminate us altogether.”

Logan was practically bouncing with excitement by the time he finished his explanation. Thomas gawked at him.

“What – you think – I’m – oh my God, _I’m killing you guys?_ ” Thomas was never going to forgive himself. He was a terrible awful person who’d unknowingly been trying to murder his own personality for _months_ now and he hadn’t even _realized_ and everyone was so scared –

“Thomas, how about we do a breathing exercise? We’ll inhale for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, and exhale for eight seconds. I’ll count.”

After several minutes of Logan’s steady counting, Thomas could take a full breath with minimal stuttering. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“Of course.” Logan straightened his tie. “Apologies for alarming you. I had intended the revelation to be good news. Now that we know the source of the problem, we can properly address it.”

“Oh! Great. Uh, how are we gonna do that?” Thomas asked, brow furrowing. “We just established that my brain is on a renegade murder spree.”

“Your mind is working to eliminate us ‘Sides,’ correct. However, it is doing so to resolve a discrepancy caused by a false belief. If we correct the belief, we can resolve the discrepancy in a less destructive fashion.”

“Okay, so all I need to do is believe that you guys are complex kinda-sorta-but-not-really people?

“Yes, but it’s not enough to merely accept it superficially. You must come to believe it in your core, figuratively speaking.”

Thomas considered that. He closed his eyes, and images bloomed behind his lids.

Roman: speaking Spanish, wielding a sword, giving Logan a screenplay he’d somehow written outside Thomas’s awareness. The look on his face when Janus had compared him to Remus, bringing his worst fear to life.

Patton: inventing Patton-Cake, eating Thomas’s leftover pizza, being a loving father figure to everyone. Repressing his feelings so he could be happy and strong for the others.

Virgil: keeping a pet spider, becoming part of their family, proving himself far braver than Thomas. His bad blood with a Side that Thomas hadn’t even known existed.

Janus: flubbing metaphors, secretly loving Scooby-Doo, referencing complex philosophers with ease. Biting back twice as hard when his rare vulnerability was taunted.

Remus: composing a dramatic musical number (with visuals!), reveling in all things gross or taboo, designing himself the gaudiest outfit Thomas had ever seen. Consigned at birth to being the unloved brother.

Logan: flawlessly rapping, hitting Thomas with a laptop, solving a Rubix cube in seconds. His sharp, angry words of dismissal after being undervalued yet again.

Logan, who was still sitting right in front of him when Thomas opened his eyes.

Logan, who along with all the others, never vanished again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: light wound imagery, the Sides disappearing from existence (but only temporarily!)
> 
> Feel free to come chat with me on tumblr @tothestanders, I love making new friends in the fandom!


	7. Trading Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why’d you harass me about wanting to play video games instead of talking to my friend? You don’t care about that sort of thing.”
> 
> Remus’s grin widened.
> 
> “Now Thomas, maybe Remus is turning over a new leaf. In that case, we should celebrate! How about we throw a bunch of Babybel cheese at people’s cars so the wax stains them red in pretty polka dots!”
> 
> Thomas stared at Patton. “…That’s vandalism. You want me to vandalize people’s cars?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be December, but a calendar can't tell me what to do!
> 
> Characters: Remus, Patton, C!Thomas
> 
> Chapter-specific warnings at the end

Thomas’s back ached from being hunched over so long, fingers half numb from hours of button pressing. Thomas hardly noticed. He was only one level away from meeting the final Boss. Weeks of gameplay had been leading up to this moment. All the lost sleep and forgotten meals were about to pay off in the greatest, grandest, most magnificent battle of all time –

Something ringing cut through Thomas’s laser focus, jolting him back to the real world. He frantically groped for the ‘pause’ button before tearing his eyes away to read the caller ID on his phone. Ah, a friend from community theater. Thomas was disappointed for a moment that it wasn’t just ignorable spam, then immediately felt guilty. He quickly accepted the call.

“Hey man, what’s up?” he spoke into the phone. “Oh! Free to talk right now?” Thomas glanced longingly at the paused video game. “Um, well…”

“Are you really gonna hang up on your friend for a video game? Wow, Thomas, I didn’t realize you were even more evil than I am.”

Thomas nearly threw his phone in surprise. Next to him on the sofa suddenly sat the Duke, his face shifting between maudlin disappointment and a suppressed grin.

“What the heck, man! Why you gotta pop up in my blind spot like that?” Thomas yelled, putting the phone on mute while noises of confusion came through the speaker.

“Why _you_ gotta be a shitty friend?” Remus replied without missing a beat. “What if they’re in crisis? What if their family just disowned them? What if they lost their job and can’t afford rent or food and have nowhere to go and you were their last option for help and now they’re going to spend the night on the streets and get mugged and then murdered and so eviscerated that they won’t be able to identify the body and he’ll be tossed into a mass grave where he’ll get devoured by worms at age thirty…”

“Oh my God, stop!” Thomas tried to command, to no avail.

“…and then he’ll turn into a zombie with his mind trapped in his rotting brain and forced to watch as his body kills people…”

“I hope your friend is doing all right!” Thomas whirled around to see Patton sitting on his other side, expression sympathetic. He didn’t seem to notice that Remus was there or still talking. Or maybe he was just ignoring him.

“Oh, thank God, Patton. Do you think it’s okay for me to play my video game instead of talking? I’m just so close to the boss battle and I _really_ wanna finish it.”

“Well, I think your pal sounded fine, but better safe than sorry. How about you can finish your game, but first we say something to cheer him up just in case?”

“…and once all his loved ones have been eaten alive his zombie brain will come back to life and have to live with the horror of what he’s done…”

Desperate to get the Duke’s morbid monologue to stop, Thomas rushed to agree. “Yeah, sure. Any ideas?”

“Oh, you know I’ve always got something up my sleeve. A _dad_ joke is never a _bad_ joke!” He paused a second to think. “What has two butts and kills people? An assassin!”

Without a second thought, Thomas lifted the phone back to his face, unmuted it, and repeated the joke. He snorted at his own punchline, mentally congratulating himself on the pun. Then realization set in. Patton seemed to have the same realization, judging by the look of self-directed horror on his face.

The sound of laughter came through the phone. “Sorry, that was kind of a silly one. But glad you liked it,” Thomas said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, I was kinda in the middle of something when you called, but I’d love to catch up later tonight if that works for you?” His friend assured him it was no problem, and after setting up a time to chat later, they hung up.

“What the heck was that?” Thomas said.

“Great teamwork!” Remus chimed, raising a hand to high-five Patton across Thomas’s body. Patton eyed it nervously, then lightly tapped the palm. Then not so subtly wiped his hand on his pants.

“Sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to use potty language,” Patton said, shaking his head. “A dad’s gotta set a good example for his kids! Not my best work, huh?”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Thomas said. “But mostly I meant Remus. Why’d you harass me about wanting to play video games instead of talking to my friend? You don’t care about that sort of thing.”

Remus’s grin widened.

“Now Thomas, maybe Remus is turning over a new leaf. In that case, we should celebrate! How about we throw a bunch of Babybel cheese at people’s cars so the wax stains them red in pretty polka dots!”

Thomas stared at Patton. “…That’s vandalism. You want me to vandalize people’s cars? And wouldn’t that probably make dents and break the windows?”

Patton’s face fell into a look of consternation. “Oh, yes, sorry. That would be very inconsiderate. Definitely don’t do that, Thomas. Okay, instead, we can celebrate with food! I think we’ve got eggs, pickles, maple syrup, and coffee in the kitchen. Sounds like the ingredients for a yummy soup.”

“ _Soup?_ ” Thomas repeated in disbelief.

Patton tilted his head. “Yeah, soup. You know, a liquid you can eat! We could add cinnamon too if you want.”

“I love it, Patton! Look who’s finally not being such a fuddy-daddy,” Remus said, drumming his fingers against his cheek.

Thomas looked rapidly between the two of them. “Okay, is someone going to explain what’s going on here or am I just gonna stay confused?”

“You could’ve skipped all the confusion in the first place if you’d just listened to me earlier. I knew you liked boys by age 6!” Remus answered, and Thomas groaned. But then the Duke let out a long, dramatic sigh and stood, spreading his arms wide. “All right, killjoy. I swapped us, of course!”

“What? You can’t do that!” Patton reprimanded. “You switch back with Thomas right now, mister! This is Thomas Sanders Sides, not Remus Sanders Sides.”

Remus blinked. “Uh, right. No. I swapped _our_ roles, Patton.”

Patton’s eyes widened with realization. “Ohhh. Well that’s much better.” He nodded to himself. Then, “Hey! You switch us back right now, mister!”

“Oopsie doodles, no can doozies. This is way too much fun! Now, Thomas, about your content.” Remus turned to face Thomas, a manic gleam in his eyes. “You really love to coddle your viewers, huh? Do you think they can tell? Do you think they click on your channel and get whacked in the face with the patronizing ooey gooey BS you sprinkle over their dainty little heads? They’re probably devastated you don’t trust them to be able to handle anything more meaningful and substantial than the trite twaddle you call videos.”

Remus pushed up his cheeks with his fists, lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. “Aw, poor babies. Their favorite Youtube star thinks nothing of them. That’s gotta cut like a machete to the heart.”

“Okay! Got it,” Thomas said. “So what I’m hearing is _you’re_ my morality now?” Horror rose in his throat. “And _Patton_ is my bad creativity?” Remus nodded excitedly. Patton looked nauseous. “Why would you do that?” Thomas asked, desperate.

“Oh, it’s simple. Dear Virgie didn’t like the bloody death threat I left on his wall earlier. Talk about not being able to take a joke, amirite?” Patton grimaced at that idea of a ‘joke.’ “Anyway, then he went off about how I’ll” – Remus adopted a mocking, bored tone to accompany his air quotes – “‘never be an important Side’ because I ‘don’t know the difference between right and wrong.’ Blah, blah, blah. But that was just too good of a challenge to pass up!”

“Too good of a challenge…so you’re trying to prove Virgil wrong? By being _my morality?_ ” Thomas clarified in dismay.

“Yep! And proving that I could gain a whole lotta influence real quick if I wanted. Good little Thomas would never repress his moral drive.” Remus smiled sweetly at him.

“Sure, okay. This is not happening.” Thomas turned to Patton. “You’re my real morality. Can’t you, like, take your job back? Please?”

“Afraid not,” the Duke answered for him in a voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Where do you think your Sides comes from, Thomas? We’re figments of your imagination, after all.”

Thomas rested his face in his hand, exhausted by the whole situation. “I’m not following.”

“It’s easy. Imagination is part of creativity.” He did a mirror of Roman’s typical arm flourish at the mention of his function. “Therefore, your creativity created your Sides and is the only thing that can change them as it pleases. As _I_ please.”

“Hold on, does that mean you and Roman are, like, literally everyone else’s dads?” Thomas asked.

“Hey now, kiddo. Don’t go stealing my kids out from under me,” Patton said, pointing a stern finger.

“Don’t worry, I’m a deadbeat dad!” Remus replied. Then his expression turned thoughtful. It was the most terrifying thing Thomas had ever seen. “Huh, isn’t it interesting that we’re figments of your imagination but also kinda not? I mean, we’ve got thoughts and _feelings_ of our own. Yet our whole existence revolves around you.” Thomas braced, not sure where this was going but sure it wasn’t anywhere good. “You call all the shots about what we do, and if one of us wants to do something? Well, better pimp yourself out to get on the Big Daddy’s good side –”

“What?!”

“– and hope he _graciously_ agrees. No autonomy for us. Just wasting away in your brain while you fuck around with the body. Male privilege? _Please,_ let’s talk corporeal privilege, Thomas.”

Remus’s tone stayed casual, gaze idly wandering as he thought aloud. But the wave of guilt that came with his words was enough to nearly knock Thomas over, and made his eyes sting with tears. The Duke actually had a point. Was Thomas a terrible person? Oh, God. _Was he abusing his Sides?_

“Okay, kiddo.” Patton said, holding out his hands in a pacifying gesture. “That’s some pretty heavy stuff. Let’s not get carried away, all right? Don’t worry Thomas, we love being part of your amazing head!”

“Did someone say amazing head? I was wondering when you’d ask –”

Thomas closed his eyes. He could not deal with this. His Morality was suggesting crime, his Bad Creativity was giving him intrusive guilt, except all that was actually the other way around, now. Too much chaos, too many moral crises jam packed into ten minutes, too much _Remus._ Frankly, at this point he was just surprised Virgil hadn’t popped up to yell at him yet. Thomas was considering just getting up and walking away, irrationally hoping that no one would follow, when he remembered something.

“Wait a second. You said only Creativity could switch you guys back, right?”

“Yeppers! And don’t bother calling Roman, he’s still black and blue from reading Youtube comments earlier,” Remus replied cheerfully. Thomas made a mental note to check on Roman once all this was done.

“But you switched roles with Patton,” he continued, frown sliding into a sly smile. “Which means that _Patton_ is now my Creativity – well, part of it, anyway. Which means he can switch you back!” Thomas turned eagerly to his father figure figment.

“Ah, I’m not so sure about that, kiddo.” Patton’s eyes were wide as saucers. “What if tapping into a” – his voice fell to a whisper – “ _dark power_ turns me evil. Like Ursula from A Little Mermaid.”

“Is that Ursula’s backstory?” Thomas asked curiously.

“No, actually! The real one is _much_ better,” Remus said. “She almost got burned alive when her village figured out she was part octopus. Good thing her dear brother rescued her. Oh, except he thought she was a monster too, so he banished her to the cesspit of the sea.” Remus’s enthusiastic tone only made his darkened expression the more unnerving.

Thomas shifted uneasily. Once again, he was reminded just how much he didn’t know about what went on in his own head. But then again, Remus had told him, hadn’t he?

_The unloved brother from the Genesis._

He began to spiral back down Remus’s guilt trip about responsibility to his Sides. Thankfully his thoughts were interrupted by Patton. “Aw, poor thing! People can be meaner than a bully burning a baby bunny in a Satanic ritual.” _What?_ “Uh, I mean! A _stuffed_ bunny. Anyway, I hope Ursula is okay now.”

“Nope, she died,” Remus informed him. Patton’s lip started to wobble.

“So that’s good news!” Thomas butted in before things could get any more derailed. He’d have time later to worry about sibling rivalry and possible injustice among figments of his imagination. “I mean, Ursula didn’t turn evil from using dark magic. So Patton has nothing to worry about. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please, I need my good old morality back. No one else can beat the top pop.” Thomas smiled at the giggle that got.

“Oh, all right. I’ll give it the old college try.”

Thomas sighed in relief and watched as Patton squeezed his eyes and fists tight, brow furrowing in intense concentration. A moment later he cracked an eye open. “Did it work?”

“Uh I don’t know, tell a joke!” Thomas urged.

“Um…oh! Why can’t a nose be twelve inches long? Because then it’d be a foot!”

Thomas groaned, but he was smiling. Finally, his Sides were back to normal.

“Or my dick!” Remus chirped.

 _Yeah, normal._ The thought was far fonder than it had any right to be.

“See, Patton? There was nothing to worry about. No spooky magical corruption – hey what’s up with your logo?” Thomas pointed at the heart on Patton’s shirt. It had turned upside down, its shape now looking a lot like…well.

Remus gasped in delight. “Awesome! Taking style inspiration from your favorite Creativity, I see.”

“You’re not my favorite Creativity,” Patton said, and Thomas couldn’t help his flinch. But then, “I can’t play favorites with my kids! You’re all perfect just the way you are.”

The side-eye Remus gave Patton was truly impressive. “Perfect, huh? Even when I do this?” Suddenly he was holding what looked kinda like a bouquet of pale, bloody flowers. Then Thomas spotted the fingernails. He watched as the entire handful of severed fingers slid down Remus’s throat and disappeared with a loud slurp.

“Of course!” Patton replied, seemingly unfazed. “No matter what you do, you’re still famILY.”

Okay, that was weird. Patton, not bothered by that sickening gesture? But wait a second – was it sickening? Strangely enough, Thomas found he wasn’t all that bothered by it either. Like some of his aversion to Remus had faded.

The suspicious look didn’t leave Remus’s face, but something about him seemed…calmer, than it had a minute ago. Softer.

Patton looked back at his shirt with a puzzled expression. “That’s funny, I could’ve sworn the heart was right-side up. Maybe I need new glasses!”

“I wouldn’t call that a heart anymore. It’s totally a pair of dingle-dangles.”

“A _what?_ ” Thomas said, unable to believe the Duke had actually used a euphemism. And a downright cutesy one, at that. His gaze fell to Remus’s belt.

“My eyes are up here, you saucy minx. And here,” Remus added, pointing to the eyeball on his shoulder.

“No, look,” Thomas said, pointing to the logo on the belt buckle. The crescent moon at the top seemed to have morphed into a smiley face.

Thomas head swiveled between the smiley face and the – uh, inverted heart – several times. He thought back to what Patton had been worried about. Lasting effects of the role reversal. Oh no.

Patton and Remus, both still engrossed by their changed logos, seemed to have the same thought. In voices heavy with resignation, all three of them spoke at the same time.

“Aw, butts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: only Remus-typical saucy language
> 
> No, Remus's logo isn't on his belt buckle. But I couldn't find it on his costume, so creative liberties.
> 
> Feel free to come chat with me on tumblr @tothestanders, I love making new friends in the fandom!


End file.
